


Family Ties

by Zoisitechan



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Family Issues, Gen, Nero & Vergil, Post DMC4, Uncle Dante, Vergil's a great father and a terrible father all at once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoisitechan/pseuds/Zoisitechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Vergil's back, Nero is in awe, and Dante is Dante.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capulet City

The entrance door of the _Devil May Cry_ slammed loudly.

Fucking clients, they never show up during opening times, these days, and then they choose a stormy Thursday night like that? Rain was pouring endlessly since the previous Sunday and everything in Capulet City looked more miserable than ever.

Having already eaten his pizza and fresh from a shower, Dante only wished to relax on the couch, taking a look at his many motor magazines and then maybe napping a bit.

"We're closed!" he shouted, coming downstairs, but a familiar voice complained "You should really clean up this mess, this place looks like shit" and the uninvited guest kicked out of his way some empty pizza boxes, as he came forward.

Nero.

"You too look like shit, kid" Dante commented, as he finished dressing and he sat comfortably on his chair. Then a doubt clouded his smile.

"Anything happened? Is your girlfriend alright?"

 

The boy looked worried and exhausted.

"Kyrie's fine... But something else happened. And I really hope you can explain me this." He bared his right arm and he showed him to the devil hunter.

It was made of flesh and bones and pink skin and muscles, _an arm,_ indeed, in its sheer anatomical perfection.

 

"Fuck. Me." Dante commented, whistling low.

The demon arm, the Devil Bringer was gone. Nero's characteristic feature and lethal weapon had turned into a common limb, mirroring his left one.

"I woke up one morning and it was like this, I didn't feel anything changing, it was all of a sudden and even if I concentrate I can't summon its power back. Yamato is gone as well. You know, I used to keep it _inside_ the arm..."

"Very smart of you, kiddo."

"Listen, old man, if you have any idea you'd better spit it out, I travelled to this shithole of a city just hoping you could be of any advice, so..." Nero was loosing his temper, as he often did. What a brat.

"I have an idea, yes. Your wishes just came true. Now you can live a peaceful life with Kyrie and forget about our little adventure against those batshit crazy bunch of assholes. Fortuna is a nice place to live in, without them."

"Yes, but it wouldn't be, if it weren't for my monster arm and fucking sword. And now they're both gone. What if I'll have to fight again? And do you really think my arm became a normal human limb just because I _wished_ it to?"

"Of course not, kid, of course not. Someone is responsible for this."

"Someone? A person, you mean?"

"Why not."

"Who could be able to suppress my power like this?"

"It's not a matter of suppressing your power" Dante explained, a clearer idea forming rapidly in his mind "It's just taking _his_ own power back... _The bastard._ "

"Who?"

"I'll tell you when I'm sure of it. Now go fetch some towels in the bathroom, you're soaked. I can order you a pizza, have you eaten?"

"Dante! I asked you a question. Who did this? Whose power was _my_ power? It's important, you must tell me."

Nero was hitting Dante's desk so hardly that he almost wounded himself. Not that he cared. That stupid arm had it coming, going back to normal now that he accepted it and was even almost proud of it! If someone was behind all that, he needed to know, now.

"Alright, alright... Eighteen years ago, my brother jumped into the depths of Hell."

"Your brother? You mentioned he was the former owner of Yamato."

"Indeed. And he tried to challenge the evilest and most powerful demon of all, Mundus. My brother was young, he was weak from a previous battle and he overestimated his power. He was defeated and enslaved by Mundus who brainwashed him and sent him against me, years later."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't know Nelo Angelo - that was his new demon name - was my brother, at the time. Couldn't recognize him, he was... _changed_. Only when I defeated him, something revealed me his identity. An object he really cherished, this."

Dante took from a drawer a pendant almost identical to the one he was wearing.

"I believed he was dead, I believed it for a long time. But when I met you, saw your arm, your Devil Trigger, your familiarity with Yamato, I understood that, somehow, when Mundus attacked him, my brother was still able to split himself in two, leaving his darkest side in Hell and letting his other side survive in you."

"In _me_? How? You mean..."

"In your arm. Look, this's just a theory, but think of it as a vessel. You also restored Yamato and you used it, along with your Devil Bringer, to kill your enemies... loads of them, actually. A lot of demonic energy flew through your sword and arm to my brother, somehow. Meanwhile Mundus was erased, I got rid of him myself, so all my brother had to do - eventually - was to summon his powers back and to become whole again, breaking free from his captivity."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that he might be alive and kicking, by now. Smart."

"I don't understand, Dante. Okay, he was a demon so he was able to do the... splitting thing, and then all the power Yamato and my Devil Bringer absorbed were good enough to him to put his... _pieces_ together again, but why me? How has that anything to do with me? He chose me randomly or what?"

"Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror, kid?"

"Huh?"

"Have you ever noticed we look suspiciously alike?"

"Me and you? How does it matter how -"

"Think, kiddo. You look a lot like me, and my brother and I were much more than alike... We were identical twins."

"I don't really see the point in what you are saying! Make yourself clear already."

"He's your father, Nero! That's why he could use your arm as his vessel. You have his blood and what was left of him was safe with you! Family mattered to my brother much more than he could ever admit. And you were everything he could call a family, considering me and him were... Well, pretty much at odds."

"Eighteen years ago... I was a baby."

"You were his son. You are."

"My father... A _parasite_ in my arm?"

"A protector, a guardian. You said it yourself, you could have never saved Kyrie without your Devil Bringer. if I'm not talking bullshit, his choice wasn't selfish and believe me, I've not spoken in his defence much frequently. He had been selfish many times in his life, but perhaps that wasn't one of them."

"Yeah, I suppose... that's true, the arm helped me a lot. But now he has taken it back."

"Now he _is_ back. Probably, somewhere."

"Then why didn't he come to me? Or to you. Family matters to him, isn't it? You just said that..."

"Yeah, well. It matters in my brother's own twisted ways, but he will show up, I'm sure of it. We just have to wait."

"Why so sure?"

"Because he wouldn't go anywhere without his pendant."

"I... see. No, wait, I don't. But it doesn't matter. _Nelo_ Angelo... Was it a reference to my name?"

"Hey. I don't know, boy, I can't know everything."

"Whatever... Tell me at least which was his name. I should know it."

"Didn't I mention it?"

"Never."

"Well, I don't speak that name since a long time... Vergil" Dante said, savouring its sound. He liked it. Always did. "....Vergil" he repeated.

"It's cool..." Nero commented and then he remained silent for a long time, watching the rain trough the window, lost in thoughts.

It was a lot to take in.

"Vergil..." he murmured. "My father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like, please let me know if I should go on with this, it totally came out of the blue and I just had to write it down. After the release of the first DMC4SE trailer, I can't actually contain myself.


	2. The Factory

A week passed with no sign of Vergil at all.

 

Dante started to regret speaking theories about him aloud: Nero was now confident his father was going to show up, sooner or later, and he grew more speculative and impatient as time went by.

"Does he know you've got his necklace? Because he _has_ to come here to retrieve it, doesn't he?"

"It's an amulet."

"Whatever the fuck it is."

"Damn, kid, go wash your mouth with bleach."

"Look who's talking. Anyway, seriously, does he know? Although he should be coming here for me, his son, and not for a piece of jewelry. Is it related to my mother? Do you have any idea about who she is?"

"Unrelated. And absolutely no idea, but you must have inherited a lot from her, because Vergil didn't speak in his whole life as much as you did in the last few days."

"Fuck it, old man. I'm just trying to understand, here."

He was excited and the devil hunter couldn't actually blame him for it. There was an era in which a much younger Dante lived happily with his mother and he remembered how important that person was to him. A parent. How deeply he loved her! And how unspeakably he suffered when she was taken from him forever.

Nero today was ten years older than Dante at that distant time and he was a grown up kid, so to speak, but differently from Sparda's son, the orphan from Fortuna had never known his parents in his entire existence and he couldn't seek consolation, at least, in their memory.  
So the mere expectation to meet his father, now, already compensated Nero's lifetime deprivation of a family.

It was definitely too late, at this point, to make him accept any other explanation for both his arm's metamorphosis and his parentage; Dante only hoped the feeling in his guts suggesting him those things was right, that Vergil was the answer to everything and that the fucker would reveal himself soon.

 

Meanwhile, Nero had started complaining.

"Right, he had been prisoner in Hell all these years, unable to come and find me, but now he's free and he snatched my powers and Yamato when I was asleep... He could at least have said something."

"What, leave a love letter? Don't sulk, kid. You'll understand a bunch of things about my brother when you'll meet him. First of all, he's not the "hi" type. Now why don't you come with me? I just received a call, clients - finally - asking me to beat some demon's ass in a factory not far from here. I need some money and you could start earning your share of pizza."

"How am I supposed to fight without my Bringer? Do you want me to get killed?"

"I recall you using that massive sword of yours - Red Queen, isn't it? - with your human arm the first time we fought and you were not so bad at it. Besides, you have your pretty _rose_ with you, don't you.

"Yeah, Blue Rose, great gun. So much better than your, what? Chalk and Cheese."

"It's Ebony and Ivory. Anyway, shall we go? If you sit by the window a little longer, I'll swear I'll give you some embroidery work to do, princess."

"Fine, fine. Let's have this thing done already."

"That's the spirit, kiddo."

 

The factory was right outside the city, over a steep, bare and sandy hill. It was past sunset and the sky was turning from bright red to dark purple, dyeing the earth bloody red.

"They used to produce great rifles here" Dante explained. "Demons don't like firearms - they make their lives slightly more complicated - so they took over the place, killed some folks, made everyone else escape and now we'll do the cleaning."

"I want to know who my mother is, that's the first thing I'm going to ask him. Definitely."

Nero wasn't even listening. He was truly a lost cause. Dante punched him lightly in the head.

"Hey, what was that for?" the silver haired teenager protested. "We'll kill them all, fine, I think that's all I have to know about this."

"Alright, kid. We go in on the count of three. One. Two -"

 

 _Three_.

 

Inside, there were maybe a couple hundreds of them: countless demons of different kinds. Damned clients forgot to mention it.

How could a not so narrow but also not extremely big place like that be infested that way? Were they gathering for a reason? Dante licked his lips, excited at the idea of slaying so much scum in one round, but then he remembered Nero was nearly powerless and he was concerned the boy could get hurt. Taking him along wasn't perhaps the smartest idea.

"Stay behind me, kid. Things might heat up a bit."

"You stay behind me, old man. I'll show you one trick or two."

Demons assaulted them from each side and also from above and their bullets started to flow in every direction; in a couple of seconds it turned into one hell of a fight and Nero, as expected, was doing well, but he lacked his Devil Bringer, no matter how hard he tried not to think about it.

Instinctively he kept on sticking his right arm out, now unable to seize his enemies and to beat them hardly like he did before. It was frustrating.

Besides, at that rate, in a few minutes both Dante and Nero ran out of ammo, and they had to fight with their blades only. Red Queen was good but much heavier and slower than Yamato. The legendary weapon able to open the Hell Gates themselves was actually no match for any other existing sword: so fast and superior.

A particularly nasty demon unexpectedly grabbed Nero's arm and stuck it into the closest machine, trapping the boy in the process and trying to tear his arm off. Nero screamed.

Dante failed to reach him, as surrounded as he was. These opponents weren't particularly strong, not for a veteran like him, but they were so many that he physically couldn't cut the distance between him and the boy, the place filled with dozens and dozens of those creatures.

"A little help here, this motherfucker is chopping my arm off, Dante!"

Nero was twitching his entangled arm furiously, trying to get free and contemporarily to defend himself from further attacks with his other hand, but he was not succeeding and about to succumb.  
So he was grateful when Dante evoked the Summoned Swords - a skill he believed being connected to Yamato only, but his judgement was temporarily clouded by the commotion of the moment and the adrenaline pumping through his veins - and the boy managed to break the machine entrapping him, coming out of it in one piece, while ghost blades stabbed to death all the remaining demons swiftly and flawlessly.

"Finally, pal! You took your time, didn't you?" he yelled.

But Dante was neither the one who performed that technique, nor listening to the boy, his attention fully gathered by the man who appeared at the door and stood there calmly and silently.

"You couldn't resist making a spectacular entrance, could you?", he told the stranger.

"Actually, I was pursuing these creatures unaware of your presence" the other answered, coolly. "How inconvenient, Dante, standing in my way... Old habit of yours."

 

The minute Nero - rubbing his shoulder muscle - looked at the man too, even in the flickering neon light of the almost destroyed factory, he realized three things.

First, he knew exactly who this person was, without even acknowledging the presence of a familiar katana in his hand.

Second, if he ever doubted Dante's words about his origins, now he was positive this man was indeed his father. He _had_ to be, because he was everything Nero ever fantasized about when he was a child: a _badass_ , a warrior from another time.

Third, the man looked completely unimpressed by his alleged son and he showed no interest in him, no emotion. Turning on his heels, he left the place and Nero had to be quick to follow him, before he disappeared into the incipient night.

"Vergil!" the teenager shouted out. How was he supposed to call him, otherwise? Father? _Dad_? Sir? The half demon's given name sounded like the safest choice, right now.

Vergil stopped walking and he turned to face Nero. The way he was identical to Dante (of course, being his twin), but at the same time he looked nothing like his brother, was odd. Not just because of his different clothes and hairstyle and composure, but for that... coldness? It was the first word that came to mind, but it was more than that and Nero couldn't still put his finger on it.

Besides Vergil looked tired, in a way, like someone who thinks too much and never sleeps enough. He seemed to be younger than Dante, though, which was weird as well, but since he spent years in another world, did time there flow differently, maybe?

His gaze was attentive to say the least and piercing, but it didn't seem hostile either.

 

" _Nero_."

He knew his name. Well, of course he did. The boy was surprised by the fact that the most obvious things seemed to be extraordinary, right now.

 

"Can we talk?" Nero asked.

"Not immediately, I have to speak to somebody else first."

"Can I see you again? Soon?"

"Yes."

 

Nero hated himself for being unable to grab the man by his arm, spit out his numberless questions and expect all the due answers, but he was partially embarassed and partially afraid to be judged by him like a petulant child. So he held his tongue.

"Alright, then. Well, thank you for... your help" he blabbered.

 

And Vergil left.


	3. Family Ties

"That was pathetic" Nero sighed, letting Red Queen fall onto the floor.

 

He and Dante had returned to the _Devil May Cry_ around midnight. _  
_

 

"What did he say to you?"

Seeing Vergil in flesh and blood for the first time in nearly two decades was a fact of emotional impact not just to Nero, but Dante's rule was to always put others before himself, so now he just wanted to make sure that the kid was fine. He would have cared about his own feelings later.

 

"Nothing. He said nothing. Actually, I didn't ask."

"I thought you had questions."

"Yeah. It's just —"

"What?"

"He said he had to go, but maybe he just didn't want to talk. I think I disappointed him."

So that was the problem.

 

"Why would he be disappointed in you? He barely saw you" and Dante immediately regretted the second part of the sentence.

"He saw enough, though. Me, being defeated by minor demons he didn't even have to get his hands dirty with, when he destroyed them all with lightning speed."

"He had Yamato, you didn't. He's half demon, you're not. He must know some more tricks than you, if he came back from Hell to the human world. Shall I continue?"

"Yeah, I got it. But I used to be better, even before Yamato and my Bringer. I don't know what's happening to me."

"Nothing is happening to you. Everyone's got his ass beaten on occasion. Sleep on it; you'll see clearer in the morning."

"Whatever. I'm tired anyway." And, saying so, the teenager quickly disappeared in his room.

 

Sons often want to impress their parents: Nero made no exception and it was perfectly normal for him to seek his newfound father's praise.

Dante worried about Vergil: he wasn't definitely the lay back type who just enjoyed looking at his kid and evaluating his efforts. He wasn't even the kind of guy who at some point (specifically, around the complicated times of Temen-Ni-Gru) decided to produce a human baby in the first place. He disliked humans.

Was he up to something? Not that Dante expected Vergil to be much talkative about these matters, but at least he didn't have to hold on. His twin, who had been waiting outside unhurriedly for the lights upstairs to go out, now entered Dante's agency as well.

"So, you're alive."

"Evidently. And you Dante...", casting a disapproving look around the messy place, Vergil moved forward and took a sit on the old leather couch, rigidly. "I see you're doing _well._ "

"Don't arch your eyebrows any higher, brother, or your _monocle_ might fall out, so to speak."

"You've aged but you haven't changed. How unfortunate."

"Your _son_ " Dante wanted to go straight to the point "because that's why you're here, aren't you, is a decent boy. Much more than that, actually. He's smart, brave. He's good at heart and he'll become a great man in another ten years or so."

"He's already a man."

At the age of eighteen? Obviously Vergil saw things in a very different way.

"Becoming _great_ " Vergil continued "is up to him."

"Does Nero have a mother too?"

"I don't really have to tell you about this, but the answer is: not anymore."

"Sorry to hear that. He's got questions for you and he'll need some stuff explained. What are you going to tell the boy?"

"I don't see how that involves you, you're unrelevant to him."

"I so do not and you don't know him, while I —"

 "What does it make assume you that I don't know him? You should come to realize I've known him all these years."

"You mean through the arm? Bullshit."

"I am his father. And Dante, although we engaged such an amazing conversation, I didn't come here to discuss with you, but to take back what is mine."

"Take back?"

"I expected Nero to rush to you the day I called his Bringer back. It was acceptable, as long as he stayed out of Fortuna while I regained my full power. Tonight, after the battle - in which you got him almost mutilated - I still let him come to your home to rest. But tomorrow I'll take him away with me and if you want to fight over this, we fight now."

"Hey, slow down man. Take him away to where? He's got his own life in Fortuna. Besides, you'll end up hurting his feelings, I'm sure of it."

"Feelings? Nonsense. Let's speak about power: he must develop his own abilities, now that he can't rely upon mine. His demon blood is watered down, he'll have to learn what for me is much easier and natural. But he still bears the blood of Sparda and he has the responsibility to live up to it."

"After all these years, are you still into this pureblood shit, Verge? I don't like the sound of this."  


"I beg you pardon, but you don't have to like it, Dante."

The tension was tangible and it was clear the situation was about to escalate any moment. Vergil stood, unsheathing Yamato with a fluid movement.  


Dante reached back and grabbed Rebellion, his  hand flashing between human form and devil trigger form.

 

"Why tomorrow? Why not right now? I'm ready to go."

_Nero._

 

The twins turned in his direction.

"Weren't you sleeping, kiddo? We're having a nice exchange of views, my big brother and I. Go back upstairs."

Dante could feel the energy of the Devil Trigger flowing through his entire body and he perceived Vergil was about to unleash his own as well. In a minute or two, there would be a demons' clash in that very room.

"Are you listening to me, Dante? I said I'm ready to follow him, you don't have to make such a fuss over it."

"What about Kyrie?" Dante asked in disbelief. He noticed how much the girl mattered to Nero.

"She'll wait for me. Without my power, I can't protect her. With no powers, you can't protect anybody."

"Damn, kid. You're your fucking father's son."

 

The teenager wanted to retort, but Vergil plainly commanded, he literally commanded him, "Walk, Nero. Let's go."

And Nero obliged.

Where did his backtalk go all of a sudden? But of course he was so mesmerized that he would have followed Vergil straight to hell, for what he was concerned.

"Goodbye Dante... and thanks" he murmured. His father was waiting for him at the door, saying nothing.

 

"I really don't like this, Vergil" Dante shouted one last time, but they were already out in the night.


	4. The Orbit Inn

Vergil's pace was quick, as he walked looking in front of him determinedly. For Nero it was the chance to observe his father when he wasn't watching.

He was tall, a family trait. His white hair was pulled back unlike Dante's, with solitary strands falling over the forehead. His eyes had a trace of dark circles around them and their blue colour was different from Nero's and slightly heterochromic. His clothes were black underneath a long, blue leather trench, and his posture was rigid, almost martial.

Nero had previously been concerned with his father's possible disappointment, but now that he required him to come along, the boy felt a little more confident about himself. After all, didn't Vergil say - as the teenager overheard - that "Nero's already a man"? He wouldn't take him anywhere if he was just a brat and a lost cause, would he?  


With no explanation and not a word whatsoever, Vergil pointed in the direction of what it looked like an abandoned hotel - a turned off neon sign spelt "Orbit Inn" - and he went inside, with Nero following.

A female demon was sitting in what remained of the reception and she aknowledged the son of Sparda's presence by bowing her head: " _Sir_."  
A few more creatures, coming out from several rooms along the wrecked corridor the two guests walked down, displayed the same behaviour.

"Demons at your service?" Nero couldn't help but ask him.

Vergil smiled. Sort of.

"You were raised to fight against them, but you'll learn some demons must be eliminated, while some others might be useful."

The whole hotel, aside for those few guardians, was drowned in silence and solitude.  
They reached a dead end on the third floor with just one closed door in front of them. The brass number plate on it said "366", but someone corrected the first number with another six. Nero rolled his eyes. How funny.

"Sleep." Vergil told him, but the boy didn't show any sign of having heard, his eyes fixed on the corridor wallpaper whose pattern reminded eerily to human eyes. "No" he hazarded. "You said we would have talked."

Vergil looked at him. Then he opened the door and went inside before his son.

The room lights were dim and the whole place looked decrepit, but still more comfortable than the rest of the building; a large bed, two nightstands and an armchair were the only furniture. The weird wallpaper colored in faded green was scraped in some points, showing red walls underneath. Apparently a cross used to hang over the bed once, judging by the minor discoloration there, but it had been removed.

Vergil sat on the armchair, legs crossed, his precious katana at his side like a walking cane.

Nero closed the door and he sat as well, on the bed, but he couldn't say anything, he had so much to ask that he didn't know where to begin from.

"When I was around your age" the half-demon started "I made a mistake." Nero, not knowing Vergil yet, couldn't imagine how much it was so unlike him to say such a thing. _Mistake_.

"Me? Your mistake was... me?"

"I challenged someone much more powerful than I was at the time and I had to take the consequences of my action."

 "Yeah, Dante mentioned it —"

Vergil stiffened at the sound of his brother's name.

"You, Nero, were not a mistake but something I wanted. The way my father wanted me."

"Your father, Sparda?"

"Exactly. My father generated me and my brother to entrust us with his powers and swords, which cannot end up in unworthy hands."

"Really? I thought... I thought your father's motive was love: he fell in love with your mother. That's at least what they've always said in Fortuna, where they worshipped Sparda like a god."

"Not at all. It was a matter of legacy and an imperative."

"So... You're saying love has nothing to do with your birth, or _mine_? And with you being my father?"

"Love is weak. Power is everything that matters."

"That's not what I think."

"No? You care about that girl, but what did it save her? Love or power?"

 "Well, I'd say both."

"And you'd be wrong. Love can't protect anything. Power can."

The conversation wasn't going well and it wasn't leading them anywhere. Nero thought that, if he really wanted a honest talk with his father, he should have opened his heart completely.

"Actually... I lied to Dante."

"Good. About what?"

"About following you to improve my power. Of course, it's very upsetting to have my Bringer gone and I feel helpless and pathetic in battle. But the main reason why I came with you is that I wanted to be with my father. This was, this _is_ , my strongest motivation."

"I see. So, that's your viewpoint of 'love over power'. You're saying that - since you're my son - you unquestionably followed me, as soon as you met me, out of _love_."

"Yes. Is that... wrong?"

"It is, Nero. It's human."

"I _am_ human."

 

After this exchange of antithetical opinions, silence fell for a while.

Then Vergil announced plainly it was time for Nero to get some rest, except he didn't leave, remaining seated where he was, Yamato still at his side.

"And you?" the teenager asked.

"This hotel is a portal" the half-demon explained. "Although I consider it safe, and these demons are loyal to me, unpleasant things happen to guests here, sometimes. I prefer to keep you at sight, just for tonight. Tomorrow we'll leave. That's why I didn't mind you staying at Dante's place one more night."

"What kind of things? You know I can take care of myself! And I surely can't sleep if somebody's watching me."

"If I leave you alone, then definitely somebody will be more than _watching_ you."

Had it anything to do with those fucking eyes on the walls?

"Alright, but at least we could sleep in turns." the boy suggested.

 

"I don't need to", he lied.


	5. Devil Within

What was left of that night passed with no further inconvenients.

If it did, Nero didn't know: he blacked out the instant his face touched the pillow - his body tired from the battle at the factory - and he awoke several hours later to the heavy rain, its sound on the roof reminding him of bullets.

His father was still in the hotel room with him, but now he stood by the dormer, watching outside.  
"Look at them" he said, perceiving the boy was now awake; pushing his bed hair down best as he could, Nero joined Vergil by the window.

Countless demons had gathered outside on the street.

"Fuck - I mean..." Swearing was a bad habit the teenager never tried to kick and it quite didn't matter before, but did his father find it acceptable? He hardly believed so.

"What are they here for?" he asked.

"Us."

"Why didn't they come in to fetch us, then?"

"Their reasons don't have to concern us, we'll just erase them. _You_ will."

"...Alright."

Nero had just woken up and he was terribly hungry but showing his father he wasn't completely useless was a chance he couldn't ask to come any sooner. He grabbed Red Queen and rushed in the corridor and down the stairs.

When he walked in front of the wrecked reception, he shouted to to the female demon still sitting there "Hey, when I'm back, I'd like some pancakes. No butter, plenty of syrup." and he went out.

 

As he showed up, all demons sensed his presence and they immediately circled him.

The rain was now so intense the boy could barely see, eyelashes heavy with droplets; he shaked his head and concentrated on his task. Somewhere inside the building, his father was observing him, judging his skills and maybe pondering if he should or shouldn't keep on taking Nero along.

He had to be flawless, except —

A blow hit him in the chest, leaving him breathless for more than one moment.

A couple of basilisks, coming from each side, aimed at both Nero's arms slitting them; he swung his sword around and managed to knock the beasts over, but a considerable amount of blood was now dripping from his fresh wounds.

A group of scarecrows, then, cornered Nero so that it started to look awfully a lot like the battle from the previous night.

Nero swore and killed three of them with an angry blow. What was happening to him? He used to be so much better than this.

One more basilisk, gigantic and enraged, managed to inflict him another wound, this time in his left leg. The boy kneeled in pain.

He tried to focus on what his father said: _"He must develop his own power, now that he can't rely upon mine."_  So there was a power within him as well, waiting to be activated the same way Nero did with Vergil's, the time he restored Yamato.

That experience was key to help the boy defeat those creatures and setting him on the right track.

A chimera hit Nero's forehead, so that blood was now staining his silvery hair and running down his face... that very blood his father - as the boy overheard - called _watered down._ Not truly demonic. Impure.

Nero smiled.

His body wasn't healing as fast as those of Dante and Vergil and his abilities weren't as vast; he couldn't perform a Devil Tigger yet and his former Bringer was just borrowed, not truly his. However, the boy from Fortuna understood that he had to do exactly the opposite of concentrating: he had to let go and liberate the devil inside.

Nero let his blade fall to the ground and he stood among his enemies weaponless: the light now radiating from him made them take a synchronized step behind.

The teenager's eye colour turned from blue to red, as he attacked with bare hands, mutated into not proper Devil Bringers but semi-demonic limbs with supernatural claws, made of a sharp, glowing blue substance, extremely effective.

It was amazing, it felt like a brand new power just awaiting to be discovered; however, as fast as it increased, that power soon dissolved and Nero, back to his normal human form and strenght, risked to be overwhelmed by those among his enemies who were still standing.

At that point, it was Vergil who intervened and slayed all demons effortlessly with his usual speed, grace and efficiency.

The bloody and panting boy couldn't help but grin again, adrenaline pumping into his system. "Have you seen it, Vergil? This power of mine? I can improve it, I feel I really can. Just as you said."

"Good. You're very likely to."

Then a doubt: "You don't mind, do you? Me calling you Vergil." _Any other word would forever sound weird._

"No. It's my name. Why did you drop your weapon during the battle?"

"It doesn't work for me. Not anymore. Also my gun, I'll leave it at the hotel."

"I see. Then we'll have to get you another sword."

"Any chance you'll return Yamato? Dante entrusted it to me, after all."

"She wasn't his to give." Vergil answered, with a glance which admitted no replica.


	6. Smoke and Mirrors

"Force Edge."

Nero broke the silence while having his well deserved breakfast, "I think it would work for me."

 

All of a sudden, Red Queen didn't feel right anymore and the boy started to believe that the legendary blade - wielded by Sparda himself - could be the appropriate weapon, and only option, to support his developing power.

"No less", Vergil commented in a low voice. If sarcastically or not, Nero couldn't tell.

They were sitting by the corner window of a nameless old cafe, all worm-eaten wood and antique mirrors. Everything in Capulet City looked decrepit, for some reason, or maybe just the places they happened to visit.

"Dante doesn't use it: Rebellion is his weapon of choice. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he leaves a family sword with me when I really need it."

"Exactly. My foolish brother is sentimental" the half-demon commented, and it sounded like the most distasteful way to be, although it created an advantage, in this case.

 

 _Sentiment:_ he really hated it, didn't he? But Nero had still unspoken questions and he thought he procrastinated them long enough.

"I overheard the conversation the two of you had last night" he began, casually. "You told him that I don't have a mother _anymore_. I've always believed both my parents perished many years ago, so learning that she's actually dead shouldn't change anything, I guess. But it makes me feel strange, sad, I don't know... I really would like to know about her. What was her name, to start with." Nero continued. "And how did she look like..."

His father kept on staring through the window at the leaden sky, drinking his tea silently. Then, like he was choosing his words, he replied "I don't remember."

"You — don't... _remember_?"

"Yes." the other confirmed, calmly. "And I suggest you not to fill your head with futile concerns, losing time."

He got on Nero's nerves. "How could you possibily not remember? — _Futile_? It's my mother we're talking about!"

"You don't have one."

"Well, I'm sorry if my own mother is futile to you." Nero remarked angrily, not listening anymore.  
Then he stood up and walked towards the exit door. "I need some air!" He kicked a pair of chairs on his way out and he soon disappeared in the city alleys. He even left Red Queen behind, abandoned on a table.

The half-demon let him go: he knew exactly where the boy was headed anyway, so he remained seated for a little while longer, observing his image in one of the mirrors. There were several of them on the walls, in different sizes and shapes, all looking one into the other, creating endless and escher-ish effects.

Vergil focused on his own face, he hadn't seen it for a long time. Regardless to his captivity in Hell, where time flew differently, he noticed he had aged, like humans do. Like Dante did. Not good. Unlike his brother, though, he possessed Father's composure and solemnity, which was a good thing; while Eva represented everything he ever loved, Sparda was everything Vergil had ever admired in anybody.  
A purple coat and he could be him. In a way, he _was_ him. He was a father too.

He finally stood to retrieve his angry son.

  
There was a small and dusty stage on one side of the cafe: probably someone had used it in the past for some kind of performance. The word LIVE, still painted in red on a wooden panel, spelt EVIL in its multiple reflections. 

Vergil deposited some money on the counter and he went outside: the _Devil May Cry_ wasn't far from there.

 

The air was filled with smoke.

Was there a fire anywhere close?

 

That eerie atmosphere reminded Vergil of some recurrent dreams he had. Nightmares, actually. He have had them for a long time. Not that he told anybody. Ever. Not even in his childhood, when he dreamt about Eva (being killed over and over again in front of him) and her devastating loss renewed each night.  
Truth was, a control freak like him couldn't dominate his subconscious.

Arkham once called him an incomplete being. Certainly, his half-human nature made Vergil weaker than his father. For instance, he needed sleeping to function, at least for a few hours. And with sleep, nightmares inexorably came.  
Their subject had changed through the years: before, they were about his mother. At the present time they involved Nero, who, by some machination of the unconscious, didn't appear in those visions like the eighteen-year-old he was but much younger, a child aged no more than five or six... A scared, white-haired little thing tracked down by monstrous creatures, his tiny arm - already displaying supernatural features - a target for them.  
Demons wanted the child, wanted to kill him...

Every time, in every damned dream, the kid was taken away by force and that nightmarish place looked even similar to the real Capulet City, in retrospective.

Same alleys.

Same sky.

Same... Smoke?

Mirrors. Deception.

 

  
He fastened his pace.

 

 _Do what you like with the boy, I don't care! If you crush him, I can produce another one. Humans are insignificant,_ Vergil repeated in his sleep during those tormented nights, but he was in anger, his heart racing.

Did he care about his son, were those signs of affection? _“Did some pesky fatherly love get in your way?”_ he once told Arkham and those words now resonated in his own mind. Did love get in his way, too? And how did it feel like?

_Like pain?_

 

There was definitely a fire nearby, he could smell it. He turned the opposite way, though, to finally reach his brother's place; Vergil entered without shutting the door behind him.

Dante was at his desk, polishing his beloved pair of guns.

At the sight of his twin, he looked surprised.   
"What is it?"

"Where is he?" the other asked, less icely than his usual. He kind of looked upset, even if Dante knew too well that Vergil didn't _do_ upset.

"Who, the kid? I thought he was with you."

"He came here a few minutes ago to ask you about Father's sword."

"He didn't. Last time I saw him, it was last night when you two left together. What, Verge, twelve hours in your company and he already escaped?" It could have been funny if Dante didn't detect concern in Vergil's eyes.

Yes, it was _actual_ concern. He really had to live to this day to see such a thing happen. The problem was, if Vergil was concerned about Nero, it was undeniably a serious matter.

"Maybe he was headed back to Fortuna, instead?" the demon hunter speculated.

"Without any weapon? He left first his gun, then his sword behind. He wanted Force Edge and he wouldn't have left without coming here at least to ask you about it."

The brothers exchanged a look, then they rushed outside, swords in hands: their supernatural senses could now perceive a distinctive source of power and it was clearly demonic.

A fire of high, purple flames, was destroying a strangely well delimited area just one block from Dante's agency.

No sign of anybody, though, and no trace of Nero in that thick smoke.

 

"They took him" Vergil said and Dante looked at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Somebody took Nero. Just under our own eyes."


	7. The Arcana

Booming thunders and purple lightnings and the sky seemed to crash on earth. Rain was pouring down hard but Nero couldn't see it, tightly  bound to a pole in a pitch black room.

He knew he was stalked by demons the moment high flames surrounded him on his way to Dante's place. However, ambushed and unarmed, there was little he could do against enemies attacking from each side.

"Fuck you all" the boy sibilated as they closed ranks on him, injured him simultaneously and Nero's body swayed forward. Then he knelt and all those creatures hovered on him like a silent black mist, dragging the prey to their nest eventually.

When it was all over, ropes were immobilizing Nero firmly, biting through his clothes into the flesh.

Unable to move, he could feel that, at least, his battle wounds had almost healed; it meant his power was still there, somewhere... He wanted to remember what Vergil taught him a few hours before: the way to summon and unleash his newborn and not well defined devil trigger, but he couldn't stay focused.

He felt strangely weak and dizzy and it took a few moments, in that darkness, to realize what was happening to him.  
A faint, irony smell of blood and the unpleasant sensation of being _drained_ , somehow, gave him the awareness of what was actually going on: those keeping him in place weren't common ropes, but demonic artifacts quickly absorbing his blood!

He swore in anger and frustration.  
His partially demonic nature allowed his blood to regenerate to some extent, but at that rate he wasn't sure, it seemed too fast.

If he couldn't find a way to free himself any time soon, he was prabably going to die. But the more he tried to move, the more those cables sank into his arms, torso and legs. So Nero forced himself to relax a bit.

He needed time, he needed to think.

 

At the _Devil May Cry,_ Vergil and Dante were sitting as far as it was possible from one another, given that they were in the same room. With red and blue colours indistinct in the gloomy day, they really could be the same person in that moment: completely alike.

"How couldn't you have noticed anything. It happened just outside of your door."

"It happened because _you_ weren't keeping an eye on him."

"You are a ridiculous devil hunter, Dante."

"And you are a shit father, Vergil."

They had to find Nero before it was too late, if it wasn't too late already. Nevertheless, they had no idea where to find him and neither they were, nor they would ever be, quite the team.

"Nice opinions aside, we must hurry finding the kid" Dante concluded, standing up. "I'll be with you in this and I don't accept no as an answer."

Vergil didn't reply, concentrated in his thoughts. He had _dreamt_ about it, he had been warned somehow. By who, he wondered? Or maybe was it an unknown side of his power, an ability he never tested before? Very unlikely. Devils couldn't read the future, nobody actually could, in Vergil's experience.

His nightmares were just a mere expression of the fear of losing his son like he lost his mother, slayed by demons. That was it. Yes, fear. He was afraid.

"That fire was a portal" he finally said in a hushed tone. "Not to Hell - _the_ Portal cannot be opened so easily - but to another place, probably some demons' headquarters. There're many of these minor portals, slight disruptions of time and space... We have to find the one which will lead to the right destination."

"There are several possible places" Dante replied, "but I can think of one in particular we should check out first. Let's go."

He moved forward the exit door, Rebellion in his hand, then he had a second thought and he came back to grab Force Edge as well. Vergil followed him without further comments.

 

When Nero's eyes adjusted to darkness, he examined the cables keeping him captive and drawing his blood out, so that not a single drop was spilled. It surely wasn't the fasted way to kill somebody and it wasn't painful either, so the purpose wasn't torture. There must have been another explanation...

 _His blood._ Of course.

Sparda's blood.

They were collecting it for a reason. Even if as diluted as it was, it was still valuable. It wasn't the first time, after all, that somebody wanted to use his blood to improve their own power. It already happened with the _Saviour_.

How did Nero escaped in that occasion? Not entirely on his own, he recalled. Dante helped out.  
  
_What a useless punk I am._

The boy then thought of his father; the way he just followed him because he both wanted to be with him and _like_ him: he didn't succeed in either case. Now he was about to die and never going to meet his parent again.

_I didn't like most of the things you said, but I'm quite sure I'm definitely not the son you expected... Sorry for that, pal._

 

 

The twins were inspecting the Arcana, an old theatre in the city surroundings.

Dante remembered it used to be grand back in the days, when a group of illusionists performed there every week, as a few faded leaflets, still lying scattered on the foyer floor and covered in dust, witnessed.

After a mysterious fire killed some artists but the place remained practically intact, people started to believe the Arcana was cursed and nobody wanted to come back there again. Every attempt to restore its popularity failed miserably, since.

 "Are you sure of this, Dante?"

"I've heard about flames exactly like those before. Here. Besides, I trust my gut feeling. Let's take a look."

They examined the interior, the space behind the scenes, the dressing rooms and the narrow corridors: it was a labyrinth of wood, dust and cobwebs and it gave the general impression of have been untouched for a long time. A storehouse was filled almost to the roof with cases of material. Nothing particular in that area.

As they approached the basement, though, they both detected a source of demonic power: the portal?

Finding its exact location at that point wasn't difficult, thanks to their supernatural senses, and as soon as they traspassed, several demons attacked the sons of Sparda like they were waiting for them.

"They even threw a welcome party for us, brother" Dante snapped, impatient to fight.

"They'd better have what we're looking for" Vergil hissed. "Go check those cellars."

Vergil kept himself busy while Dante advanced, trying to locate the boy. "Nero, are you here? NERO!"

A faint voice answered from a distance. "Dante?"

Rebellion - blazing red with demons' blood - opened Dante's way until he finally found the teenager held captive in a cell; he hurriedly liberated the boy, cutting the ropes around his body, realizing what they were doing to Nero, who collapsed on the ground.

"Where's my sword?" he whispered, trying to stand up again.  


"Red Queen? Not here. Uncle Dante's got a present for you, though."

"Did you bring Force Edge?"

"I did. Just in case you wanted to be back in business, kiddo."

"Give it to me, I want to get rid of these bastards." He could barely walk, but he was angry and determined. He grabbed Force Edge and its weight almost got him off balance.  


"Easy, boy. You're weak."

"I'm fine, Dante! If I don't do this now, on my own, I would never be able of -"

_Looking at my father again._

Some demons approached and the devil hunter slayed them all with a fluid motion.

"Any suggestion about this babe?" Nero asked him, wielding Force Edge more steadily. What a magnificent blade! But its powers were completely new to him.  


"Let her be. Also: don't die. Your old man would skin me."

"Not sure he'd bother."

"You can bet money on that."

When they joined Vergil, however, all work was already done: he had eliminated their opponents alone, and he was now sheathing his precious Yamato, then slicking his hair back with his hand. 

"It seems, Nero, you'll prove yourself worthy another time. Vergil's not the one to share the fun.  So typically him."

Vergil ignored Dante and looked at his son, who seemed quite alright although in a mess of ripped  and blood-stained clothes. 

"Let's get you out of here".

The boy nodded.

 

They returned to the _Devil May Cry_ once again and, this time, everyone agreed Nero really needed to rest. And to shower. And to feed. While he took care of all this, Dante and Vergil exchanged a few words outside.

"First time I saw the kid, back in Fortuna, I knew who he was straight away. He's you: looks like you, reacts like you. He's just the emotional version of you."

"So many years have passed, and you still speak nonsense... Besides, you don't know anything about him, or me."

"We're twins, of course I know."

"Twins... Right. We spent much more time apart than we did together."

"Anyway."

"Anyway. Well, I'd say it's been a pleasure, but — Time for me to go."

"You're not going without a word to Nero like a complete dickhead, are you?"

"What should I say to him?"

"That's up to you. But if you take any advice, like you never did before, don't go at all. Stay with your son, he's the best thing that has ever happened to you."

"Tell him... he'll find me in Fortuna, when he'll be back. I have a place to pay a visit to, down there. Goodbye, Dante. Try not to get killed by those demons you hunt. I claim that unique privilege for myself, one day or another."

His brother laughed. "Goodbye, Verge. Well, I'll be waiting for that day."

And the older twin kind of smiled. In the dusk, Dante couldn't really tell, but he believed so.

Vergil, meanwhile, was already gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a bit of swearing in this, sorry, but I thought it was in character- somehow ;)  
> More importantly: thank you for reading! This's the chapter I like less, but I hope it's not completely rubbish.  
> While I'm finished writing, we still don't know about Nero's true origins, except maybe for some hints Capcom recently released (and I really hope they're pointing in the right direction!).  
> The DMC4 Special Edition is going to be epic, I'm SO looking forward to it. Thanks again and take care ♥


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